Sins of the Father
by Steffykaye
Summary: Sam learns the Winchester family secrets
1. Prologue What Dreams May Come

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Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic

Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R br

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not my creations.

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Prologue - "What Dreams May Come"

From the journal of Dr. Hunter Ryder, "Some people say that dreams are merely a reflection of our subconscious will and desires, others that they are proof of a divine being operating in our lives. Until recently I would have leaned more to the former. As a man of science, it is often impossible for me to accept or even consider those things outside the scope of our five senses. At least until it haunts my life, causing me to be terrified at the thought of sleep. I know now that sometimes, dreams are more, much more. For some, dreams are a terrifying window into a world that is a maze of dark twisted deeds and a blood lust so strong that it overpowers you. 'To sleep, perchance to dream' is now a phrase that resonates through me with sinister power."

Hunter closed his journal and rose from the chair, He downed the last of his now lukewarm tea before he checked the windows and doors of his small, cozy house, all the while he knew that he was just looking for reasons to delay the inevitable. The tension of the past two weeks showed clearly in the set of his jaw and the haunted look in his eyes. Slowly, almost painfully, he made his way to the bedroom and prepared for bed. Although the thought of entering the mind of the killer again repulsed him, he knew that without his dreams, the police would have no leads. At first, they were loath to believe him, skeptical that someone who once prided himself on a logical, well-ordered life now claimed to have seen grisly murders in his dreams. Until he described the crime scenes in gruesome detail.

After that, only his standing in the community and the fact that he was not nearly strong enough to do the things that had been done to those women saved him from being arrested. Now, they came to him after every murder, with that same pleading, questioning look in their eyes. With great reluctance, he climbed into bed and prayed that this is one of the nights that the dreams do not come, that he can rest without being plagued by those dreadful images. As slumber started to claim him, however, he knew this is not to be the case. Already he felt the cruel arrogance creeping into him and knew the anger and the unquenchable thirst for blood and death couldn't be far behind. As he slipped into sleep, the dream came.

He saw a young woman, sitting in a pub, laughing with her friends. He looked down and saw his hands, the hands of a predator, as always garbed in black leather gloves stained with the blood of his victims. They were clenched into tight fists and shook with the sheer fury that coursed through him. Methodically, he calmed the rage, he knew he must look sane when he approached the woman. Smiling and talking politely with her friends took gargantuan strength of will. He only managed to accomplish it by keeping the pictures of degradation and death running through his mind, until he was able to get the woman alone.

Hunter tossed and turned in his bed. His anguished moans filled the silence of the night as he watched, in helpless terror, another woman being slain in his dreams. As the last of her life's blood drained from her body and she breathed the sigh that indicated the end of the torture she had suffered, Hunter woke in his bed, screaming in anguish. At that exact moment, halfway around the world, Sam Winchester did the same.


	2. Family Concern Winchester Style

**Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic**

Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not my creations.

**Chapter 1 - "Family Concern , Winchester Style"**

The Next Morning

"Some nightmare last night, huh Sammy, what happened, you finally realize that you'll always be the ugly duckling?" Dean threw a cocky grin over his shoulder at his brother. "I mean, dude, if I looked like you I would wake up screaming too!" Sam, having learned long ago the best way to deal with his overbearing older brother shot him an annoyed look.

"Keep your eyes on the road, or my prayers will be answered and we'll finally be able to replace this heap." Sam quickly ducked to avoid the slap he knew was coming, and laughed as he turned his head to look out the window, relieved at the thought that he had avoided talking about the dreams again.

"Seriously man, the whole brooding, Heathcliff on the moors thing, it's getting old. It's been, what, two years since Jess died? It's time to move on." As he caught Sam's amazed look, Dean grinned. "Yeah, I can read and everything, didn't even have to go to Stanford."

Sam sighed, annoyed that he couldn't avoid this discussion after all. "The dream wasn't about Jess, Dean. It was something else. The worst I have ever had." He closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the images that he hadn't been able to forget. "Hell, who knows if it was even a true vision. Probably just my way of dealing with all the stuff we've seen since we've been on this hunt."

Dean scoffed, "and joining us today, pop psychologist and self-help guru, Dr. Phil. Seriously man, where do you come up with this stuff?" Dean repeated Sam's words mockingly, "Probably just my way of dealing with all the stuff we've seen since we've been on this hunt. Is that the kind of stuff you learned while you were away finding yourself? It's no wonder Dad made me…" He suddenly stopped talking, aware that he was about to say too much.

"Dad made you do what?" Sam looked at his brother hoping that he will finally get Dean to open up and talk about what had happened in those years he was away.

"It was nothing, just some more of that 'knowing who you really are' crap." Casting a sidelong glance at his brother, Dean quickly changed the subject. "So, tell me about this dream. Any chance it involved me and some hot girl expressing her gratitude for being saved from the big bad whatever?"

He just grinned and shrugged when Sam cast him an exasperated look. His expression quickly turned to one of concern, however, when Sam related to him the details of the dream. "That is one sick, twisted mind you got there, Sammy."

"Look, I know how it sounds, OK, but I can't get those images out my head, or shake the belief that somehow they are real. This one has a different feeling than all the others. Those things I saw, they happened as I was watching them. I'm not talking about the precognition here, Dean, there's something else."

Stopping at a red light, Dean turned to look at his brother, the gleam of the hunt in his eye. "All right then, lets find out what it is, and kill the son of a bitch."

Later the brothers stopped for the night at one more in the endless line of nameless, pay by the hour, hotels. "I'm going after food, man, it'll be a while before I get back. What, with me needing to special order your grilled chicken sandwich."

Sam just grinned and thought about how nice it was that his brother knew him well enough now to not even ask what he wanted. Made it one less thing he had to think about.

"I'm going to take a shower, if the hot water in this place works." Dean glanced up at his brother as Sam left the room and decided it was a good time to make the call. He yelled through the bathroom door, "I'm leaving, save me some shampoo, hair boy." He pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and quickly dialed a number. As he waited for his call to connect, he did not hear the bathroom door open. "Hey, Dad, about Sam," his voice faded as the door closed behind him.

Hurriedly Sam moved to the window and saw that Dean was already climbing into the car. He knew that a direct confrontation would do little, if any, good, so he resorted to a tactic that had worked well in the past, snooping.

Reaching over, he pulled Dean's laptop towards him and opened the files containing the information on the years that he was away at college. He had just recently cracked the password for those files, but it was here that he learned most of what he knew about the creatures that his father and brother had fought while he was gone. Dean still wouldn't talk much about it. He always changed the subject like he was afraid to trust Sam with this information, even though it had been two years since Sam had returned to hunting. There was one file he had been avoiding, fearful of what he would find when he opened it. With great reluctance he opened the file titled, "Sammy."

At first, the things he saw there were what he would have expected, pictures of him as he was leaving for Stanford, and copies of the e-mails and letters that he had sent back home. Sam winced as he realized how much those contacts with his family had decreased over the years, but was nevertheless touched at the thought that everything he had sent to both his Dad and Dean was in that file. Hearing a sound outside the door, Sam glanced up guiltily, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the door to the room next door slam shut. He quickly got up and threw the chain lock on the door, at least that way if Dean got back before he was done, he would have time to hide the evidence.

A look of pain crossed Sam's face as he saw the next picture in the file. It was one taken of him and Jessica right after they started dating. The pain quickly changed to disbelief, however. He pulled up hundreds of pictures of himself at Stanford. They showed him on campus, out with his friends, and even at home with Jess. The pictures spanned the whole time he had been at school. It became clear to him that either his father or brother had been watching him all while he was away. There was no other explanation. Sam knew there was no way that a confrontation could be avoided now. He needed answers. He felt an inexplicable rage well up in him. As he sat waiting for Dean to return, the darkness overpowered him and he slumped to the floor.

Dean grimaced as he finished his call and tossed the cell phone on the seat beside him. Sometimes the weight of the burden his father had thrust on him was hard to bear. He was getting tired of lying to Sam about where their father was, and of avoiding the subject of the years that Sam was away. Dean wanted everything out in the open. That was the best way to deal with things. He understood his father's reasoning for keeping things from Sam, he just didn't agree with it.

He muttered under his breath, "this is Dad's deal, there is nothing you can do about it." The line had become like a mantra to him. But he knew that it would not be long before Sam insisted on knowing the whole truth. He dreaded the confrontation. Revealing the secrets would do one of two things. It would either drive Sam away forever, or turn him into a hardened, bitter man. Neither option was one that Dean wanted. He needed things to stay the way they were. The past two years had been the best he had seen in a while. Even with the lying and ceaseless hunting. He thought for a moment on what that revealed about the life he had led.

"I'll just leave that 'journey of self discovery' crap to Sam," he thought as he reached over and turned up the stereo. There was nothing better than a blast of Metallica to drive away those thoughts.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, and grabbed the food. He paused and looked towards their room. He expected to see Sam watching for him as he had been gone longer than even he had anticipated. It had taken Dad more time than usual to convince him to keep quiet. He saw no movement through the window and noticed that there were no lights on. His senses immediately went on alert. That was not like Sam, who still had problems with being alone in a dark room.

As Dean hurried to the door, he tried to convince himself that Sam had just fallen asleep. But when he tried the door and found it locked and chained, panic wormed its way through his gut. He shouted at Sam to open the door. The only response was a low moan from inside the room. Dean pounded on the door and threw himself against it, desperate to get to his brother. He barely felt the sharp explosion of pain as his shoulder socket yielded to the force being applied to it. Just then the door gave way and he rushed inside to find Sam sprawled on the floor.


	3. Duty and Illusions

**Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic**

Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not my creations.

**Chapter 2 - Duty and Illusions**

Dean raced towards his brother's prone form. The conversation he had just finished with his father was running through his mind.

"Keep him safe, Dean. I have to be able to depend on you."

Dean knelt over his brother and shook him in a mixture of fear and anger.

"Don't you dare die on me, Sammy. Not when Dad is finally so close to being able to save you."

Slowly Sam returned to consciousness. He was uncertain how he had gotten to the floor, he just knew that he had been lost in the dark. Ever since his dream the night before, he had felt the darkness pressing in on his consciousness, it's greedy fingers prying at the frayed edges of his sanity. He opened his eyes to see his brother, pale and obviously hurt, kneeling over him. Although touched by the concern in his brother's eyes, he could not forget those pictures. The ones that had sent him into the abyss. The ones that had proven he had never really been free. The need for answers clawed at him. It was razor sharp and could no longer be denied. He reached behind him, pulled the laptop from the bed and thrust it in Dean's face, wincing as his brother instinctively raised his arm as if to block a blow. Even now after willlingly putting himself in danger to save him, Dean did not trust him. The pain of that had him speaking more sharply than he had intended. "You want to tell me what this is about, or do I walk out on this whole thing right now?"

Dean's eyes widened in shock and his mind raced. The secrets belonged to their father. They were not Dean's to share, but it looked like he had no choice. He resigned himself to being the one that shattered Sam's illusions, effectively destroying that tenuous relationship he had worked so hard to build. He knew that he would need all the strength he had acquired since he had been hunting to be able to deal with this new problem. He also knew that there was no way he could do it injured. He might say too much if he had to split his attention between his pain and the careful choosing of his words. He had to take care of his shoulder now. Normally he would ask Sam for help, but he didn't trust that look in his brother's eye.

"All right, you want to know all the dark Winchester secrets, I'll tell you. But give me a minute, Sammy, there's something I have to take care of first." Dean ignored his brother's incredulous look and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Reaching over, he turned on the shower full blast. He didn't want Sam to hear him if he screamed out. He knew his brother thought he was avoiding the issue in true Winchester form, but he had to deal with the shoulder now. If he let it go much longer he would be out of commission for several days, something his hunter instincts would never allow to happen. He also knew that taking care of it was not as easy as it looked in "Lethal Weapon."

Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a pill bottle. Shaking two 30 mg morphine tablets into his hand, he dry swallowed them. He shook his head, thinking as he did so often that this life was not without it's perks. What other job could you have where morphine was something that you popped like aspirin? Briefly his mind went back to the pharmacist whose life they had saved a year ago and he thanked her for the prescription. Not that he had a problem with stealing the drugs they needed, but he was getting tired of seeing the inside of a jail cell. Normally, he would give the drugs a chance to dull the sharp edge of his pain, but he knew that Sam was waiting. Steeling himself, Dean closed his eyes, turned and slammed his back into the wall, popping his shoulder back into place. The bright, hot, flare of agony exploded in his head, causing him to cry out and the room to go dark. No matter how often he had to do that, he never fully remembered just how excruciating it was. He sagged to the floor, suddenly very tired of having to be strong and dependable. He thought that Sam and Dad sometimes forgot that he was not a hero, he was just a man. A man who still harbored the frightened child inside. Duty, he thought bitterly, it was the word that defined him. It was also the word that had trapped him into a life he had not chosen. His duty as a son, as the older brother, had made him into what he was today. A lonely drifter who had seen way too much evil and not nearly enough good.

Dean called upon all of his training, and breathing slowly, he pushed the pain down until the room came back into focus. He stood up, knowing that no matter how he felt about the accident of birth which made him the protector instead of the victim, he would do what needed to be done. He turned off the shower and gripped the edge of the sink, staring into the mirror to try and detect any trace of anguish that remained. He had learned quickly that Sam was more observant than Dad had ever been, he saw through him way too easily. And even though he was distracted now, Dean did not want to risk that kind of exposure. Satisfied that the nonchalant mask was back in place, he opened the door.

Dean swaggered back into the main room. He forced himself to smile at his brother. "When nature calls, man, you just have to answer."

"Dean, this is not the time for jokes. I knew Dad thought I didn't have what it took to be a hunter, but he didn't even trust me to be able to live a normal life on my own." Pain crossed his face as he realized just how much he had messed up his 'normal' life. "Maybe he was right, maybe I really am so pathetic that I need a keeper."

"Can the 'poor me' crap." Dean's angry gaze rested steadily on his brother's face. "If you're as smart as everyone thinks, you know that's not what this was about. If Dad had really thought that, he would not have let you go in the first place."

"So, I am supposed to believe that this was some sort of twisted, paternal love thing? The man never loved me, he always blamed me for Mom's death." Sam got up and went to window, peering out into the darkness. "I got so sick of him watching me, waiting for me to make one wrong move. I had to get away. Now I find out that even after I left he didn't trust me."

Dean's hand fisted at his side. To stop himself from plowing it into his brother's face, he got up and started pacing the room. "Listen, I have taken a lot of crap from you because I know how badly you were hurt when Jess died, but if I ever hear you talk about Dad like that again, I swear I will rip you to pieces. Everything that he did was because of you. From the moment we found out you were going to be a boy, his whole life revolved around protecting you. To save you like he couldn't save Mark."

"Uncle Mark?" Sam lifted his eyes and stared at his brother in confusion. "He died of cancer when Dad was 20. There was no way Dad could have saved him."

"You're wrong about that Sammy." At Sam's questioning look, Dean gitted his teeth and reluctantly added, "Dad knew what really killed Mark."

Sam motioned for Dean to continue, but his brother's gaze was firmly fixed on the floor as he paced. Finally Sam vocalized the question, "What killed him, Dean, and how could Dad have stopped it?"

Dean just looked at his brother. He did not want to get into this with Sam. His reluctance was evident in the set of his face. He knew that Sam's guilt ate at him every time Dean got hurt because of him. Even though it sickened him to do it, he played on that fear, trying one last time to protect the secrets of the father who had left him. He lowered himself to the chair and leaning his head back looked up at his brother.

"Any way we can not do this now, Sam? I'm in pain here, someone thought he would be smart and lock the door before he passed out." Dean closed his eyes, he couldn't deal with that bright flash of hurt that flared in Sam's eyes. The silence stretched on, bringing him close to the breaking point. He opened his eyes to see Sam just staring at him, waiting for answers.

Dean sighed he was tired of fighting his father's battles and of hurting his brother in the process. "Fine. You want answers, you're going to get them. Just don't blame me when you can't handle it." Again, unable to stay still, he pushed up from the chair and resumed his pacing. "Mark didn't die of cancer. He died by the hand of the same thing that has been killing second born Winchester sons for centuries." Dean turned to look at his brother, trying to gauge his reaction. For once, it was Sam's eyes that were shuttered and expressionless.

"We don't have much information on what this thing is. Grandma burned most of Grandpa's notes when he died while she was pregnant with Mark. For years, Dad was unable to explain why his father became so paranoid after they learned that Mark was on the way. And when Grandpa died, he was thrust into the role of taking care of both his mother and little brother." Dean stopped his monologue, staggered as he realized how closely his life had mimicked his father's. Shaking his head, he continued.

"After Mark's death, Dad found a journal that Grandpa had hidden. In it, Grandpa talked of an ancient curse against his family." Dean grinned slightly. "Some sort of woman scorned thing. Even way back then, the chicks knew that once you had a Winchester man, nothing else comes close." He glanced at Sam, hoping to see some reaction. He shrugged as he was confronted with those same expressionless eyes. The only evidence Sam gave of the tortured thoughts running through his head was the vein throbbing in his jaw. Dean was grateful for the restraint Sam was showing, it made things easier on him.

"Anyway, once Dad knew you were going to be a boy, he knew that he had to protect you. He spent the whole nine months researching curses and protection spells. It worked too. You lived through the first attack, but not without a price. In it's anger, the thing took Mom instead. After that, Dad swore that he would never let it have you. That's why he never let you out of his sight, and that's why he sent me to check up on you so often after you went away."

Dean paused again, desperately hoping that Sam would not press the issue of Jessica's death. The hope died though when Sam finally looked up. "So why did it take Jess? Why didn't it kill me that time?"

He couldn't deal with it. He felt the guilt and self-loathing wash over him in bitter waves. How did he tell Sam what he had done the night that Jessica had died?

"I was only doing my duty. Dad told me to protect you at all costs. I knew how much you loved Jessica, but the charm was not strong enough to save both of you. I made the choice. Even knowing what would happen, I made the choice and then lurked in the shadows, waiting around to pick up the broken pieces of the life I had just saved."


	4. Saving Sam See warning before reading

**Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic**

Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R

Genre: Horror/Angst

Status: Work In Progress

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not mine

**Author's Note: This chapter contains scenes of violence against children. If this bothers you, please do not read it.**

**Chapter 3 - Saving Sam**

Sam made a strangled sound in his throat. "You made a choice? My God, Dean, I knew you could be ruthless, but . . ." Sam's voice cracked as he choked back the tears threatening to overpower him. "How can you just stand there and tell me this? You took her from me. She was the only decent, pure thing I have ever had in my life. And you sacrificed her to save me? To preserve a life that every day since her death I have thought of ending?"

Dean stared at his brother in disbelief. He had known that Sam still felt guilty about Jessica, but he had no idea it was this bad. "Sam, listen to me . . ."

Angrily, Sam cut him off. "I am done listening to you. For two years you've been there. You were there when I would wake up screaming her name. You kept me sane, I depended on you." Sam's hand shook as ran it through his hair. "Now you tell me this? I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. I could have helped come up with a stronger charm, or gotten out of her life altogether. It would have hurt her, but at least she would be alive. But you decided to make the choice." Sam laughed bitterly. "You know, the thing is, if you had come to me and told me what was going on, the first thing I would have done was ask you what we should do about it. I trusted you. But the brother that I loved, that I admired and wanted to be like doesn't exist."

Dean reached out his hand, attempting to make contact with the brother he had driven away.

Sam flinched as though he had been burned. "Don't touch me. I'm out of here. If I have to look at you for one moment more, I will do what no demon has been able to, I will bring down the famous_Dean Winchester_."

With that last remark hanging in the air between them, Sam strode out of the room and into the night, not knowing or caring what was out there waiting in the shadows for him.

Dean slumped to the bed. The effects of the pain and the morphine prevented him from following his brother, even if Sam had wanted him there. There was nothing he could do and he hated that. He was the one that fixed things. He hunted evil for a living, yet had been unable to save his own brother from being hurt, had in fact, been the one to cause that hurt. As the adrenaline drained out of body and a morphine-induced sleep stole over him, he reached under his pillow and curved his fingers around the handle of his knife. He sought comfort from its cold familiarity as he thought back to the only other time his father told him he had failed Sam.

* * *

John watched as a 12 year old Sam valiantly attempted to battle the poltergeist. He knew he should jump in to help, but he wanted to see how Dean would react. John knew that he was driving both sons away, he just couldn't let himself worry about that, there were more important things at stake. He didn't worry too much about Dean, he knew that he would be able to handle whatever life threw at him. He was so much like his father. He had accepted the role of protector without question. From the age of three, John had told him the story, always making sure he knew that Sam's life was to be the most important thing to any of them. There was no way that John was going to let some psychopathic, centuries old spirit destroy another member of his family. The thought that he didn't need any help doing that crossed his mind but he quickly thrust it away. It didn't matter. What mattered was saving Sam. He glanced down the hill again, smiling thinly as he saw 15 year old Dean enter the fray. He checked his watch, Sam had been fighting on his own for nearly 10 minutes. He would have to talk to Dean about that. Sam should not be left alone that long. 

Dean grimaced in disgust. He hated poltergeists. The way they could attack you without being seen and travel from place to place creeped him out. At least with a haunting all you had to do was find the remains of the ghost. With a poltergeist, you were dealing with the energies of a living person. "Doesn't make it less painful," he thought as three deep scratches burned themselves into his arm. The poltergeist was trying to get at what he held in his hand. He ducked quickly as a tree branch came flying at his head, automatically glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Sam was not in the line of fire. For as long as he could remember, it had been his job to watch over Sam, to protect him from what had killed their mother. Dean had long ago accepted that Sam mattered more to their father than he did. He barely even registered the pain that thought caused. It was a fact of life, there was nothing he could do to change it.

"Dean, did you find it?" Through his research, Sam had determined this activity seemed to be linked to a pistol used to kill a man in front of his wife and children. Even at 12, Sam was an instinctive researcher. He just seemed to know exactly where to go to find the information on what they were hunting.

Dean's head jerked back and his eyes watered as an unseen hand grabbed his hair and tugged viciously. "Sam, I've got it right here, say the incantation will you? This thing is seriously annoyed that I brought the gun here." He breathed a shaky sigh of relief as his brother began chanting in Latin. Finally, this ordeal was through, and they had survived without being seriously injured. Just as he finished that thought, the flesh on his arm began to heat, sizzle, and then it was wreathed in flame. Gasping at the sharp agony, he instinctively threw the gun and wrapped his burning arm in his coat. Instead of hitting the ground, the gun rose in the air, turned itself towards Sam, and fired.

Dean leaped towards his brother, throwing himself in front of him and knocking him to the ground. All he could think of was saving Sam. He felt the hot bite of the bullet and crumpled in a heap on the ground.

Dean was awakened by a sharp kick to the ribs. He opened his eyes and saw his father's steel toed boot drawn back to kick him again. Quickly he sat up and saw John's harsh face above him. "Is Sammy OK?"

"No thanks to you, but yes he's fine. Now, get up." John's voice was rough with the anger that burned from his eyes. He pulled Dean up and threw him on the back seat of the car, not heeding the grimace of pain and fresh wash of blood from Dean's many wounds. Sam was huddled on the ground by the car, shaking and muttering about not being fast enough. "What was that little stunt you pulled back there? I thought by now you would know how to protect your brother."

"Dad, I did," Dean protested. "I know I dropped the gun, but then I jumped in front of the bullet to save him and ..."

John didn't allow Dean to finish, he grabbed his head and forced him to look at Sam. "Look at what you did to him. How many times do I have to tell you before you learn? You have to get the weapon. How hard is that to remember? By getting yourself shot the only thing you did was leave Sam unprotected and too upset to even finish the exorcism. If I had not been there to clean up your mess, he could have died."

Dean thought briefly that if John had been there, Sam would be OK, and he wouldn't be feeling like he had wrestled a pride of lions. He quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. He couldn't allow himself to start questioning his father or the life they led, that road was too dark, and he had enough to deal with just staying alive.

"Now get yourself cleaned up and go talk to your brother. And for God's sake, play down what happened. We don't want him to be worried about you the next time we have to bring him along on a hunt. We can't afford for him to be distracted."

Dean reached for the first aid kit and quickly took care of the burns and scratches. Fortunately, the bullet had just grazed his scalp, he wouldn't need stitches. He hated having to stitch himself up. It sounded silly after all that he had seen in his short life, but he didn't like needles. Once he had bandaged his multiple wounds, he got out of the car and lowered himself to the ground beside his brother.

"Hey, Sammy. What's with the whole 'Rain Man' thing?"

Sam raised tear-filled eyes to his brother's face. He was still young and had not learned the stoicism that characterized a Winchester man. "Dean that thing almost killed you. Why did you jump in front of me like that?"

"Ah, I knew I would be fine. Poltergeists are notoriously bad shots." Dean forced himself to chuckle softly. "Besides, since I took the bullet, I get to pick the music we listen to on the way home." Dean grinned at his brothers groan, confident now that things would be okay for a while. "Let's go, I'll bet you can talk Dad into burgers and milkshakes for supper."

* * *

Dean turned over in his sleep. The tears that he would never allow while awake slowly trickled down his face. 

Sam wandered the darkened, rain soaked streets. He didn't even know what town they were in, and it didn't really matter. At this time of night they all looked the same. It had been years since he had stormed out of an argument to wander in the night, years since he had felt so trapped and alone. Even at Stanford where he hadn't quite fit in, at least he could always go to Jessica. She had been his safe harbor. In her arms he had never felt like a freak, or a lost little boy without a mother. And Dean, his brother, the only other person he had truly trusted, had taken her from him. The pain of that betrayal was like a knife twisting in his gut. He stopped in an alleyway and pressed his face against the cool brick wall. He felt as though his whole inner being was quivering. Whether in rage or anguish, he didn't really know. The only thing he did know was the Jessica was gone, and Dean had taken her. The worst part, that had hot bullets of guilt piercing his soul, was that he understood why Dean had made the decision he had. In fact, he was sure he would have done the same in that situation.

Cursing softly under his breath, he started walking again. As the guilt and anger began to pile up like thunderclouds in his mind, he broke into a run, trying to move fast enough to escape the mental demons that hounded him. He ran faster and faster, until his legs could no longer support him and he collapsed to the ground. As he lay there panting, he felt the darkness creeping back over him. He looked at his hands and they wavered in front of him. They shifted slowly from the hands of Sam Winchester to those of a murderer gloved in black leather. He raised his head. The eyes glaring into the night were no longer the tear-filled, anguished ones of Sam. They were deep and expressionless, like wells of stagnant, murky water. Slowly the Sam thing got up and with a predatory grin began to make it's way back to the hotel where Dean lay sleeping.


	5. Darkness Rises

Sins of the Father. A Supernatural Fan Fic

Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R

Genre: Horror/Angst

Status: Work In Progress

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not mine

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has read my fic and reviewed. I really appreciate the positive feedback. Since this is my first fan fic, any and all hints/suggestions/criticism is greatly appreciated!

**Chapter 4 - Darkness Rises**

Sam stood outside the hotel room door. He struggled visibly again the darkness controlling him. The door to the next room opened and light spilled out revealing an attractive blonde woman. Although obviously a prostitute, the interest in her eyes was genuine as she watched the tall man standing in the shadows. She started to call out to him, a proposition forming in her mind. She stopped abruptly as he turned and looked in her direction.

'His eyes are so empty,' she thought, shuddering as goose bumps rose on her arms. 'It's like looking into nothing, an empty bottomless well.' She was reminded of when she was young and had come across a rabid dog in the street. She thought how this man's eyes reminded her of that animal. She whirled quickly and raced to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. She would not venture out anymore that night.

The Sam thing grinned. It's eyes gleamed with unholy glee as it watched the drama unfold before him. He chuckled. The sound emerging from low in his throat. It was not the mirthful chuckle of a child. Instead it sounded like dry skeletal branches rubbing against a window. With a predatory glint in it's eye, the Sam thing allowed itself to contemplate the torture, degradation, and slow painful death of the woman. He didn't know why he had been brought to this unfamiliar place, or why he now had possession of this new body. His only thoughts dealt with death, destruction, and surviving to see the light of day. He was getting stronger. Every time his host surrendered to anger and despair, he was getting stronger.

He started towards the woman's room and his gloved fingers clenched in anticipation. As he approached the door, he felt the good fighting against him, struggling to regain control of the body. With a low growl of rage, he turned away. He was not strong enough to force the good into complete submission yet. The only thing he could do was carry out the dark wishes of the one he controlled. Those desires that the good managed to suppress.

He grinned. He may not be strong enough to force the host to kill the woman, but the rage against the brother filled him. It was something he could use to control the good. He turned and moved with a predator's grace back to the brother's door.

Dean turned in his bed as he heard a knock. "Sam, is that you?"

"Let me in, I forgot my key when I left earlier."

Dean got up and went to the door. "Dude, I didn't expect you to come back . . ."

The door swung open violently and slammed into the wall. Dean instinctively backed away, but the Sam thing was fast. It had the benefit of Sam's training and the murderer's ruthless intent. It grabbed Dean by the throat and lifted him off the floor, shaking him like a rag doll.

Shock emanated from Dean in waves. He knew Sam was angry but had never expected this.

'How the hell did he get so fast?' The room was dark, he couldn't see Sam's face just a shadowy form. He heard his brother's voice laughing in glee as he turned and threw him against the wall.

Stars exploded in Dean's head as his temple made contact with the corner of the TV stand. How could Sam do this? He had never even been able to hunt animals. He realized as Sam turned and started back towards him that he couldn't take the time to figure this out. He had to stay alive, and somehow bring down his brother without killing him. He wasn't sure he could do it. He had always known that Sam was physically stronger, he had just never had the instincts of a fighter.

'Not an issue now,' he thought as his brother stalked him around the room. He suddenly ran towards Sam trying to catch him off guard. Too late to stop the charge, he saw that Sam had his knife from the bed. He must have grabbed it while Dean was laying on the floor. He threw himself to the ground, Sam's thrust barely missing him.

He struggled to push himself away but realized that he was pinned to the floor by his very own knife. He had always known that his death would be a violent one. His final breaths seemed destined to be taken in a cheap hotel, lost in the middle of nowhere, no one knowing or caring how he had lived his life. He had expected to die the death of the lonely, he had just never expected it to be at the hands of his brother. He closed his eyes and waited. Even now, as he waited for Sam's fatal blow, he could not bring himself to do anything that could bring harm to him. His father had taught him too well.

Sam fought desperately to get back to the surface. He could not allow this thing to kill his brother. Not when Dean thought he was the one attacking him. Sam remembered the things the shape shifter had said as he read Dean's thoughts and how he had fought so hard to convince Dean that he would never leave him. Panic clawed it's way through his mind. He would not let Dean die alone, thinking that his own brother had betrayed him. Sam would stop this thing, even if he had to take his own life to do it.

Dean opened his eyes. What he saw had him drawing a quick gasp of disbelief. The light coming through the window illuminated Sam just enough so that he could see his brother's face. And the eyes of something else staring out of it. As he watched, the eyes slowly changed. The evil in their expression leached out, leaving confusion in it's wake.

"Sammy, come back to me. You can beat this thing."

As Dean watched, the creature in front of him slowly changed back to his brother. Now that he knew Sam would be OK, he could reach over and pulled out the knife pinning his sleeve to the floor. He stood up and slowly approached his brother. Although he knew this was Sam, he wasn't sure of the reception he would get. He reached out, hand shaking with tension, and took his brother's arm.

Sam stood as though frozen in time. He could not believe the things he had watched that creature do. It had tried to kill his brother. For one brief moment, Sam had wanted Dean dead for what he had done to Jessica. It was that thought which had him immobilized with guilt.

Dean watched the emotions racing across Sam's face. He had always been so easy to read. Even now, Dean saw that brief glimmer of hatred and felt the quick punch of it go clear through him. He had known Sammy would hate him, had thought he was prepared for it. But the pain was still there. Pushing it aside, as he had learned to do so long ago, he shook his brother.

"Come on, Sammy, you have to shake it off. You can't let this thing get to you like that."

Tears ran down Sam's face and his body convulsed with sobs. Finally, the dam had broken and the grief and anger he had felt at losing Jessica was being released. Although Dean knew that this was the best thing for his brother, he didn't know how to deal with this outpouring of emotion. Action was all he knew. So he led Sam to the chair, got him a cool washcloth, and quickly left the room with the ice bucket, mumbling something about needing a cool drink. Even though he was uncomfortable with the situation, he made sure that he left a light on for Sam and that the door was securely locked behind him. There may be unresolved issues with his brother, but that did not negate the need for Sam to be protected. After one last glance to make sure everything was OK, he jogged towards the vending area.

Sam glanced up, glad that Dean was gone. He needed time to compose himself. He knew that whatever creature had gained control of him had done so through his emotions. He also knew that he had never been as good at controlling that part of himself as Dean was. He had always envied his brother that talent. It was only recently that he had discovered the terrible price Dean paid for this ability. He no longer wanted to be just like Dean. He did not think he could have survived the things his brother had seen and done. He shook his head and forced himself to take action. Standing, he got the necessary tools from the bag and cleansed the room. He knew that it would do little good. That he was the one haunted, not the room, but doing something, anything, helped him clear his head.

He jumped a little at the sound of a ringing phone. He realized Dean had left his on the nightstand. He picked it up and noticed that the incoming call was an international one. Quickly he answered, "Hello, this is Dean's phone."

Aside from a sharp intake of breath, there was no response from the other party.

"Hello. If you're looking for Dean, he just stepped out, If you tell me who this is, I can have him call you right back."

"Sam, is that you?"

Sam's mind reeled as he instantly recognized the voice. He had not heard it for nearly 4 years, but it was the same, low and made slightly hoarse by too many cigarettes and too much drinking. He could not stop the bitterness from welling up in him. As he struggled with his emotions, he felt the darkness prowling at the edge of his consciousness. He pushed down the bitterness, he refused to lose control again.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me. The one person in the world that you never wanted to talk to again."

Dean paused outside the door. He was a little startled to hear Sam's voice. He strained to hear what was being said and felt tension creep back into him as he realized that Sam was talking to their father. Struggling to regain his air of nonchalance, he opened the door and strolled in, a wide smile on his face.

"Dude, I got us some provisions." He grinned and held up bottles of Mountain Dew and bags of potato chips. With a quick glance, he saw that Sam had already hung up the phone. And that he had taken care of cleansing the room.

"Hey man, you took care of all the fun stuff. I thought we agreed that the next time we had to douse a hotel room in salt and holy water, I was going to do it."

Sam looked up at his brother. He knew Dean had probably heard him on the phone, and that he was trying to gain control of the situation. It wasn't going to work. He had to talk this over with Dean. No matter what Dean had done, he was not going to let him face this thing alone.

"Dean, stop. I know you have been keeping a lot of secrets. I also know that you had your reasons. But we've got a bigger problem now. Dad called. He said he found what he was looking for, and that he needs us. Well, actually, he said he needed you, but there is no way that you are leaving me behind on this one. I am going with you. I am going to hunt down that thing that killed Mom and Jess, and I am going to be the one that ends this."

Dean sighed. He knew that John wouldn't like the thought of Sam being there. He also knew that John had never seen the steely resolve in Sam's eyes. His little brother had grown up. He knew that they were just going to have to accept it or risk losing Sam forever. For the first time since his father had thrust the infant Sam in his arms and told him to get out of there, he decided to go against John's wishes.

"All right, Sam. You win. Tell me what you know and I will fill you in on the rest."


End file.
